Part 3

Ok, this guy is clearly delusional. I got cosplay, but actually thinking that you're royalty is taking it a bit too far. Self-indulgence at best. And I didn't have any time or patience for self-indulgence.

"Your…Highness?" It must have come out more like an acknowledgement than a question, because he nodded in agreement.

"Yes! Well, that's what you called me when you were little. I always told you to just call me by my name, but you never were good at listening." His lips twitched a tiny bit, forming a slight smile. "That's how you got that scar," he pointed at the right side of my chin. My hand flew to it, and sure, enough, I felt a thin, raised line, so faint that I could almost barely feel it at all. But I don't have a scar on my chin.

"You didn't listen to your father, either, which is why you have a scar now. You always hated the medicine he gave you to help fade it." The smile grew larger as his gaze grew more distant. He was clearly remembering this, or at least he'd deluded himself into thinking that he remembered it. He can't have, because it didn't happen. But then, how did I explain the scar on my chin?

"I'd always hoped that he'd bring you back again, but he never did," something new—sadness—tinged his tone. "He took my hand in his, almost like someone would hold their child's. For the first time, I didn't pull back. "I'm not surprised that you don't remember me. It's probably been about ten years since I last saw you. I could barely recognize you, until I saw the scar. Then I noticed your eyes."

I swallowed, for once in my life, truly at a loss for words. "What about my eyes?" I asked, once I could manage to talk.

His lips curved into a small smile of reminiscence again. "From far off, they look dark brown, but when you look closer," I could have sworn that he leaned in, ever-so-slightly. "they're different colours."

Ok, this was pushing it. After pointing out my scar—which had magically appeared on my face, somehow—now he was going to pick on my eyes? "No, they're not." I could hear the defensiveness in my tone as I said it. That defensiveness had always gotten me in trouble—with my parents, my supervisor—but it only seems to make him smile more.

"Don't worry, you never could see it from far-off. Close up, though, you can see that they are dark brown, but one eye is a little more green, the other, a little more blue." As he spoke, he looked directly into my eyes, as if re-memorizing them.

I didn't really know how to respond to him. Arguing seemed pointless, because of course it wasn't true. Mind you, I did suddenly have a new scar. And pink silk robes. Since I didn't know what to say, I gave my hand a little tug in his, pulling away. He looked a bit surprised that he was still holding it, and immediately let go. His cheeks flushed a little, I noticed, before he crossed his arms in front of himself. "Well, it seems like your personality hasn't changed much either. Stubborn, as ever." The words were similar to those I'd heard from others before—more times than I'd like to count. But, somehow, he didn't say them with any hint of condescension, or even defensiveness in response. Instead, his tone was almost—admiring.

"Hm, well, I don't know why I would change," I tried a vague response, stalling for time. I clearly wasn't going to convince Your Highness, or whatever his real name was, that I was anyone other than this Hong Ha-Na, so the best I could do is suss out more about her until I could break away and try to get back home.

To my surprise, he actually started laughing. It was a nice sound, warm, and somewhere between a chuckle and real laughing. "That," he paused to look at me, his eyes still glimmering with laughter, "sounds exactly like something you would have said, Ha-Na."

"Hmm, what else did I used to do? You know…ten years, it's such a long time…"

"Why don't I remind you while we walk back up?" He paused. "You're early, though. I never did ask you about that. Is there somewhere you need to go before?"

Early? Huh? I had no idea what he was blabbering on about, so I decided that the passive acceptance route was best. "Oh…no. No, I'm coming along…to the palace."

Your Highness nodded, slowly. His eyes were really very expressive, and I could tell that he knew I'd dodged part of his question. But he simply tossed it off, it seemed, with a grin. He gestured his head towards my right. "Good. We have ten years to catch up on, then."

*********************

"So, Your…Highness," I tried out his name—supposed name, that was—for the first time as we walked. Even though he was a good nine or ten inches taller than my five-foot-three, he kept an even pace with me, walking more beside me than ahead.

"You really should drop that name." Although something in his expression told me that he didn't mind the nickname.

"Ok. Then I'll call you Prince…"

"Chi." The way he said it made it sound like it was a friendly reminder, not something new. "You should call me "Chi.'"

"Sure, right you are… Prince Chi."

His mouth curved into a near-smile again. "You don't remember me that well, do you?"

"Um…" I debated. "It's coming back."

"Well, don't call me 'Prince,' either. 'Your Highness' was always veiled disrespect, anyways." His eyes met mine, and I found myself blushing in embarrassment of Hong Ha-Na's past sassiness. "Not that it mattered. It always felt ridiculous for someone not even three years younger than myself to refer to me so formally."

"Ok, if that's what you'd prefer, Pr—Chi."

"Good." He looked ahead, and we walked in silence for a few moments. It was weird, but he spoke with such familiarity that I almost believed that we did share a past.

Keep it together, Hanna. He might have escaped from a mental institution.

"So, is your father here with you?" Chi—or the person who claimed to be Chi, rather—shifted his glance to me again.

"Um…no." Better to safe than sorry. I had no idea where Ha-Na's father was—if he did exist, that was—and it was better to keep the details simple."

"Ah," Chi's tone was nonchalant, understanding. But I could hear the disappointment behind it. "That's a shame. I'd hoped that he'd come with you. You know, I never got to tell him before you left, but he was always a great comfort to me, after my father died."

"Oh. "It once again was dangerous waters, but he spoke with enough sincerity to make even me feel some sense of compassion for him. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "No matter. It was so long ago, I barely remember him." For a moment, his focus was on the ground beneath him, watching every step with more intensity than the act of walking required. I recognized that motion. I'd done often, myself, over the last few months. "But thank you. You and your friendship were both a great comfort too."

I swallowed and nodded. Being a comfort to someone was not something that I was used to. If anything, I'd mostly caused people to worry about me. "How long has it been? Since your father past away?" Might as well get some details.

"Nearly eleven years." He said it simply, like it was a fact. Which it was. But still, when someone you love dies, nothing about it is ever just a "fact." Everything about it holds weight. I could hear that in the slight tightness in his voice. "It wasn't long before my tenth birthday."

"That sucks."

Chi stopped walking, turning to me with that expression on his face that registered part confusion and part warm amusement. "Wherever you've been these past years, you've picked up the strangest words."

"Oh, I…" Think. Think!!! "You know me." I let out a nervous giggle, that sounded more like a squeak than anything. "'Sucks' is like when you're sucking on something that doesn't taste good. It's…hard to swallow."

"Ah. I see." Chi nodded, and although he still looked a bit puzzled at my terminology, I could see that my answer satisfied him well enough.

"Is your mother well?" By asking, I was walking on ice again. But asking simple questions could give me information about exactly who "Chi" was. And besides; I almost wanted to know more about him, whether he was real or not.

He grimaced. "She's gone too, now."

Me and my stupid mouth. "Sorry."

"You didn't know. She died not long after you and your father left. The confinement to Father's hometown was hard for her—for Father, as well, but he could handle it better than her. After he was gone…well, there wasn't much left for her."

"She had you," I pointed out, though I'm not sure why I did.

His smile changed, from a sad one to a wry grin. "You don't remember my mother well either, do you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Father could handle the confinement, because he was a quiet man. He always just wanted a peaceful life. If he hadn't become ill, my siblings and I would have been more than enough. Mother, on the other hand—she was much more social before she married. I don't think she anticipated how hard a life in exile would be."

"Fair enough." We walked silence for a few more minutes. There was no way, it was becoming abundantly clear, that I was anywhere near my grandmother's house. Fields completely surrounded us, and all I could see were wildflowers and a few trees dotting the landscape. I honed in on one of the flowers. "Hibiscus Syriacus."

"Hm?" Chi turned his attention to me, and I internally chided myself for speaking out loud. "Sorry. I was just saying the name of these flowers. They're called 'Hibiscus Syriacus' or 'Rose of Sharon.'"

"Well," satisfaction played in Chi's tone. "It's clear that you haven't changed much at all."

"Mm." I meant it to be a noncommittal response, but Chi took it as a question.

"You were always good with flowers, herbs. You knew what could cure almost any general ailment by the time you were five. It made sense, your father being the court physician, but you had a much more mature understanding than most would at that age."

"I sound like I was quite something," I mumbled.

"Yes." Chi looked reflective again, reminiscent. "Yes, you certainly were."

I didn't have too long to contemplate what sort of sadness Chi had been through that he was inventing such an elaborate past with me. In the distance, I could see—"Is that a village?" I tried to keep my jaw from dropping as I spoke.

"Yes," Chi replied with the same casual tone he'd used since I met him. If he really was fabricating all of this, he could definitely could cut it as an actor.

The thing was, I couldn't fabricate this. Not even in my dreams. There, in front of me, was a section of houses, traditional ones made of stone. But they weren't just any old houses either. They were new, but not based on their quality; "new" as in new for the era. Not anything that anyone would build in the 21st Century. And weaving between the homes, sitting on the front steps, hanging laundry out of the windows, were people. They looked the same, obviously as any 21st century person would, except they were dressed in robes too.

"Goryeo," Chi grinned at my response, "has gone through much change since you last saw it."